Fabrizio De André, the revered Italian singer/songwriter, created a deep and enduring body of work over the course of his career from the 1960s through the 1990s. With these translations I have tried to render his words into an English that reads naturally without straying too far from the Italian. The translations decipher De André's lyrics without trying to preserve rhyme schemes or to make the resulting English lyric work with the melody of the song.

"La ballata dell'amore cieco (o della vanità)" was the B-side of the next to last 45 released on the Karim label. The first three verses of this song are taken from a French poem "La Chanson de Marie-des-Anges" by Jean Richepin. De André's father had studied French literature at university, and in the years following World War II De André grew up surrounded with books and music. One of his attractions was to the dark sensibilities of Baudelaire. The macabre lyrics of this song coupled with the lively music (Dixieland interludes!) show the influence also of George Brassens. And that "tralallaleru" refrain is no doubt related to Trallalero, a group harmony singing tradition from the Ligurian region that was taken up by Genoese dockworkers and became hugely popular in the first three decades of the 1900s.

An example of Trallalero:

An honest man, a man of probitytralalalalla tralallaleru
fell deeply in love
with a woman who loved him not at all.

She told him bring me, tomorrowtralalalalla tralallaleru
She told him bring me tomorrow
the heart of your mother for my dogs.

He went to his mother’s house and killed hertralalalalla tralallaleru
from her chest he tore out her heart
and to his love he did return.

It wasn’t the heart, it wasn’t the hearttralalalalla tralallaleru
It wasn’t enough for her, that horror,
she wanted another proof of his blind love.

She said darling, if you love metralalalalla tralallaleru
She said darling, if you love me
cut the four veins of your wrist.

He cut the veins in his wristtralalalalla tralallaleru
and as blood gushed out,
running like a madman he returned to her.

She said to him, laughing hardtralalalalla tralallaleru
She said to him, laughing loud
your final test will be death.

And while his blood slowly drained out
and then his color was changing,
the cold vanity rejoiced,
a man had been killed for his love.

Outside, the wind blew gentlytralalalalla tralallaleru
but she fell into a state of consternation
when she saw him dying, contented.

Dying content and in love,
when for her nothing remained,
not his love, nor his well-being,
just the dried blood of his veins.

"Amore che vieni, amore che vai" was the last song written by De André for the Karim label, and it was released in 1966 as side B to "Geordie." It treats a theme that appears regularly in De André's work, the mutability of love. The song is also featured in a 2008 movie of the same name, based on the novel Un destino ridicolo co-written by De André and Alessandro Gennari in 1996.

Those days long past of chasing the wind,
of asking each other for a kiss and wanting a hundred more,
one of these days you’ll remember them.
You, love who runs away, will come back to me.
One of these days you'll remember them.
You, love that flees, to me will return.

And you who with eyes of a different color
tell me the very same words of love,
in a month, in a year, you’ll have forgotten them.
Love who comes to me, from me you will flee.
In a month, in a year, you’ll have forgotten them.
Love who comes to me, from me you will flee.

Hailing from sunshine or from cold, cold shores,
lost in November or with a summer breeze,
I loved you always, I never loved you,
you, love, who comes and who goes.
I loved you always, I never loved you,
you, love, who comes, you, love, who goes.

"La ballata dell'eroe" was the B-side of the 45 released by Karim in 1961 that De André considers his first published work (the A-side was "La ballata del Michè"). With the Cold War raging between the US and the USSR, and in the context of the unfolding Berlin Crisis, this song was a simple yet powerful anti-war ballad. The song was re-recorded by Luigi Tenco in 1962 and appeared in the movie "La Cuccagna." The song was republished in 1964 as the B-side to "La guerra di Piero" and also reinterpreted and included on Volume III. Though not officially credited, according to the sheet music of the song the music was written by Elvio Monti, who worked for Karim as arranger and orchestra conductor and who collaborated on many of De André's songs released by that label.

He had gone off to fight in the war,
to give help to his country.
They had given him the patches and the stars
and the advice to fight to the bitter end,
and when they told him to move ahead,
too far he pushed on, searching for the truth.
Now that he’s dead, his fatherland boasts
of another hero added to its memory.

But she who loved him waited for the return
of a living soldier. What will she make of a dead hero
if beside her in bed she is left with the glory
of a commemorative medallion?

"La canzone di Marinella" is perhaps the most famous of De André's songs, and when it was covered with great success by the Italian artist Mina in 1967 it allowed De André to give up his day job and concentrate on songwriting. The song itself was based on the true story of a girl who became orphaned and then took to the streets to make money. She was murdered by a client. When he read the story, De André's impulse was to do something to help, in the only way he could - with a song, written as a way to change her death and to sweeten it somehow, given that we have no powers to change the events of someone's life already passed.

This story of Marinella is the true story,
that she slipped into the river one spring.
But the wind that saw her so beautiful
carried her from the river onto a star.

Alone with no memory of sorrow,
you lived without the dream of a love.
But a king, without his crown and without escort,
knocked three times one day on your door.

White as the moon his hat,
and like the flush of love his cloak.
You followed him without any reason,
like a child chases after a kite.

And it was sunny and your eyes were beautiful,
he kissed your lips and your hair.
Then came the moon and your eyes were tired,
he placed his hands on your hips.

There were kisses and there were smiles,
then there were only fleurs-de-lis
that saw with the eyes of the stars
your skin trembling in the wind and the kisses.

They say then that while you were returning
you slipped into the river, who knows how?
And he, not wanting to believe you dead,
knocked a hundred years more at your door.

This is your song, Marinella,
that you flew to heaven on a star.
And like all of the most beautiful things,
you lived only one day, like the roses.

And like all the most beautiful things,
you lived only one day, like the roses.

"Fila la lana" was presented as a translation of a popular medieval French song from the 15th century. In fact the French source song was "File la laine" composed by Robert Marcy in 1948, popularized by Jacque Douai in 1955. The War of Valois in De André's version is better known as the War of the Breton Succession (1341-1364). The original French version speaks of the "Monsieur of Malbrough" which refers to a 1709 battle in the War of the Spanish Succession depicted in one of the most famous of French folk songs, "Marlbrough s'en va-t-en guerre."

In the war of Valois
the Seignior of Vly died.
Whether he was a valiant hero
is unknown, it’s still not certain.

But the woman left abandoned
lamenting his death,
for a thousand years, maybe more,
will mourn his sad destiny.

Spin the wool, spin your days,
keep fooling yourself that he might return.
Book of sweet dreams of love -
open the pages to its sorrow.

They returned by the hundreds and by the thousands,
the warriors of Valois.
They returned to their families,
to their palaces, to their cities.

But the abandoned woman
won’t find her love again,
and the big log in the fireplace
will be of no use for warming her heart.

Spin the wool, spin your days,
keep fooling yourself that he might return.
Book of sweet dreams of love -
open the pages to its sorrow.

Knights who in battle
ignore the fear,
may your chain mail be tight,
your armor well-tempered.

To the enemy who assaults you
be ready to give riposte,
because behind those walls
you’re awaited without cease.

Spin the wool, spin your days,
keep fooling yourself that he might return.
Book of sweet dreams of love -
close the pages on its sorrow.

"La città vecchia" is set in old Genoa where De André spent much time, with its little back alleyways, bars, prostitutes, and the hard lives of the poor people and criminals who lived there on the margins of society, the opposite of what De André experienced with his own upper-middle class upbringing. The song was inspired by a poem of the same name by Umberto Saba set in the port zone of Trieste. And the first two lines are quite similar to lines from a poem by Jacques Prévert, "Embrasse moi": "The sun of the good Lord doesn't shine on our parts/It already has too much to do in the rich quarters." Throughout his songwriting career, De André regularly took inspiration from and borrowed from other works of literature and music. (Translation notes: 1. "Giunone" is "Juno," but "By Jove!" is the common English expression. 2. In Italy, pensioners receive their checks on the 27th of every month.)

In the districts where the sun of the good Lord
gives not its rays,
it already has too many commitments
warming the people of other neighborhoods.
A little girl sings the ancient song of the whore:
that which you still don’t know,
you will learn only here in my arms.

And if at her age she might lack in competence,
she’ll quickly refine her skills with experience.
Where did the good old days go, by Jove,
when to practice the craft
still required a bit of a calling?

A leg here, a leg there, bloated with wine,
four pensioners half-poisoned at the table;
you’ll find them there, rain or shine, summer and winter,
guzzling it down and profusely bad-mouthing women,
the weather and the government.

They’re searching for bliss there inside a wineglass,
to forget having been taken for a fool.
There will be joy even in agony with strong wine.
They’ll wear on their faces the shadow of a smile
in the arms of death.

Old professor, what do you go seeking in that street door?
Perhaps she who alone can teach you a lesson,
she who by day you scornfully call
public wife,
she who by night sets the price for your desires.

You’ll search for her, you’ll invoke her
on more than one night.
You’ll wake up exhausted,
postponing everything til the 27th
when you will cash and trash half your pension,
10,000 lira to hear yourself say
“sweet pussycat" and "big rag doll.”

If you enter along the walkways of the old piers,
in that thick air, laden with salt, swollen with odors,
there you will find the thieves, the assassins
and the weird guy,
that one who sold his mother to a dwarf
for 3000 lira.

If you will think, if you will judge
as a fine upstanding middle class person,
you'll condemn them to 50,000 years plus expenses;
but if you will understand, if you will search them
through and through,
even if they are not lilies they are always children,
victims of this world.

"La ballata del Michè," released in 1961, was the first song De André claimed as his own (the first two De André songs released by Karim he wrote off as "abortions" and "sins of youth"). He often said that the success of the song was enough to prevent him from giving up his songwriting career and instead becoming a criminal lawyer. The song was inspired by an actual news event, and includes a number of elements common to De André songs: a tolerance, understanding and respect of the common man and his circumstances, along with a critique of both the law and the church for certain of their hard-line and merciless principles.

Live, 1990s, verses rearranged

When they opened the cell
it was already late because
with a cord ‘round his neck
there hung Mike, all cold.

Every time I hear a rooster
crowing, I’ll think
of that night in prison
when Mike hanged himself.

Tonight Mike
hanged himself from a nail because
he couldn't remain twenty years in prison
far away from you.

In the darkness Mike went off knowing
he could never tell you that he had murdered
because he loved you.

I know that Mike
wanted to die so that
the memory of the deep feeling he had for you
would remain behind with you.

Twenty years they had given him.
The court decided it so
because one day he’d killed
someone who wanted to steal his Marie.

They had him condemned therefore,
twenty years in prison to rot away.
But now that he hanged himself
they have to open the door for him.

Even if Mike
didn’t write you explaining why
he left this world, you know that he did it
only for you.

Tomorrow at three o’clock
he'll fall into the common grave,
without a priest and the mass, because for a suicide
they have no pity.

Tomorrow at three o'clock
he'll be in the wet ground
and someone will plant a cross over him
with the name and the date.

"La canzone dell'amore perduto" was written when things were no longer going well between De André and his first wife "Puny" Rignon, though they continued to live together for a while. It's interesting that De André wrote this break-up song from the woman's point of view. The song was extremely popular and was covered by many other Italian artists. The music is from Georg Philipp Telemann Adagio from "Concerto in D Major for trumpet, strings and basso continuo").

Remember? The violets used to bloom
along with our words,
“We’ll never, ever leave each other,
never.”

I’d like to say the same things to you now,
but how quickly, love,
the roses fade,
just like the two of us.

The love that drove us to our wits’ ends
is now lost.
Nothing remains but some limp caresses
and a bit of tenderness.

And when you find yourself
with those wilted flowers in hand,
withered in the sun of a now-distant April,
you’ll be filled with regret.

But there will be that first woman
you meet out on the street whom you’ll
cover in gold for a kiss never given,
for a new love.

And there will be that first one
you meet on the streets whom you’ll
cover in gold for a kiss never given,
for a new love.

"La guerra di Piero" was the B-side of a single released in 1964, and it received little notice. However, in 1968 the song became an anthem to militant anti-war students in Italy and achieved the stature of Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind." The song has its origins in stories told to De André by his uncle, who served in World War II in the Albanian campaign and spent almost two years at the Mannheim concentration camp as a prisoner of war. He never recovered from the wartime trauma, but his stories made an indelible impression on the young De André. Even though credited only to De André, the music of the song was co-written with guitarist Vittorio Centanaro. "La giava," translated as "square dance," was in fact a fast waltz that became popular in France after World War I, considered by some an indecent dance because it involved touching the hips of the girl (gasp!).

You sleep buried in a field of grain.
It’s not the rose, it's not the tulip
that stands vigil over you by the shadow of the trenches,
but a thousand red poppies.

Along the banks of my stream
I wish the silver pikes would swim past,
no more the cadavers of soldiers
carried in the arms of the current.

Thus you were saying, and it was winter.
And like the others, towards the inferno
you go, sad as one who must.
The wind spits snow in your face.

Stop Piero, stop now,
let the wind pass over you a bit.
You carry with you the voice of the battle dead -
whoever gave his life had a cross in exchange.

But you didn’t hear it, and time passed
with the seasons at the pace of a square dance,
and you arrived to cross the frontier
on a beautiful day in spring.

And while marching, shouldering your spirit,
you saw a man down in the valley
with the very same mood as yours,
but the uniform of a different color.

Shoot him, Piero, shoot him now,
and after a hit shoot him again
until you don’t see him, lifeless,
falling to the ground to cover his blood.

And if I shoot him in the forehead or in the heart,
he’ll only have time to die.
But time will remain for me to see,
to see the eyes of a man who is dying.

And while you give him this consideration,
he turns, he sees you and is afraid
and, his artillery raised and aimed,
he doesn't return the same courtesy to you.

You fell to the ground without a cry
and were aware in an instant
that there would not be enough time for you
to ask pardon for every sin.

You fell to the earth without a cry
and realized in an instant
that your life was ending that day,
and there would be no return.

My Ninetta, dying in May
takes way too much courage.
Beautiful Ninetta, straight to hell
I would have preferred to go in winter.

And while the grain stood to hear you,
in your hands you were gripping a rifle,
in your mouth you clenched words
too cold to melt in the sun.

You sleep buried in a field of grain.
It’s not the rose, it's not the tulip
that stands vigil over you by the shadow of the trenches,
but a thousand red poppies.

"Il testamento" was the A-side of the fourth 45 released by Karim, in 1963. De André was no doubt familiar with similar type songs by the French singer/songwriters Georges Brassens ("Le testament," 1955) and Jacques Brel ("Le moribond," 1961), as well as with the 15th century French poet François Villon, whose poem "Le testament: Ballade des dames du temps jadis" was the inspiration for Brassens's song. While these works may have given De André the idea for the setup of the song - the last will of a dying man - the lyrics themselves are classic De André, filled with humor, making fun of the well-to-do and siding with the have-nots. (Translation note: "rendita" means income earned on capital, like interest from a savings account or bond, and the most accurate translation is "unearned income." That translation would suggest that prostitutes earn their living without having to work for it. De André's intent here was to put the (good) money that could be made by a prostitute on the same plane as the (easy) money made by the moneyed class on their capital, or to posit a social outsider like a prostitute being able to earn and save enough so as to be able to receive "unearned income," probably to the chagrin of mainstream owners of capital.)

When death calls for me,
maybe someone will protest
after having read in the will
what inheritance I am leaving them.
Don’t curse me, it won’t do any good,
I’ll be so far into hell already.

To the protectors of the hookers
I leave an accountant's task
so that experts in their line of work
keep the populace informed

at the end of every week
about the capital gains of a whore,
at the end of every week
about the capital gains of a whore.

I wish to leave to White Mary,
who doesn’t give a damn about decency,
a certificate of merit
that might pave the way to marriage,

with all good wishes to whoever fell for it
to keep themselves happy and betrayed,
with all good wishes to whoever fell for it
to keep themselves happy and betrayed.

Sister Death, leave me the time
to finalize my will,
leave me the time to say goodbye,
to pay my respects, to give thanks to
all the great masters of ring-around-the-rosie
‘round the bed of a dying man.

Mister gravedigger, listen to me a little.
Everyone dislikes your work,
they don’t consider it such a great joke
to cover with earth whoever rests in peace.

And for this reason I am proud
to award you the golden spade.
And for this reason I am proud
to award you the golden spade.

For that lily-white old countess
who doesn't move an inch from my bed,
so as to extract from me the insane promise
of reserving for her my lottery numbers,

I can’t wait to go among the damned
to reveal all the wrong ones to her.
I can’t wait to go among the damned
to reveal all the wrong ones to her.

When death asks me
to give it back my freedom,
perhaps a tear, maybe just one,
on my tomb will be spent,
perhaps a smile, maybe just one,
from my remembrance will sprout.

If from my meat already eaten away,
where my heart beat out the time,
should one day be born a rose,
I give it to the woman who offered me her tears.

For every beat of her heart
I’ll render to her a red petal of love.
For every beat of her heart
I’ll render to her a red petal of love.

To you who were the most sought-after,
the courtesan who didn’t give it up to just anyone,
you who now, at the corner of that church,
offer likenesses to the beautiful and ugly alike,

I leave the notes of this song.
I sing the sadness of your illusion
to you who, to scrape by, are
compelled to sell Christ and the saints.

When death calls me,
no one in the world will realize
that a man died without speaking,
without knowing the truth,
that a man died without praying,
fleeing the burden of piety.

Dear brothers of the other shore,
we sang in chorus down there on earth,
we loved in hundreds the same woman,
we departed in thousands for the same war.
This memory might not console you all -
when people die, they die alone.
This memory might not console you all -
when people die, they die alone.